


Across the West Sea

by quingigillion (cartouche)



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dating without dating, Dirk never goes to the Perriman Grand, Gen, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Neighbours, This is odd im sorry, Where they don't meet properly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartouche/pseuds/quingigillion
Summary: Dirk knocks on Todd’s door at odd hours to ask his opinion on manatees and monsoons. Dirk steals his pizza from the delivery guy. Dirk does everything he can to irritate Todd’s few precious hours away from work. He suffers through it until the day that Dirk breaks into his apartment through the window while he’s in the shower.Dirk spends a while too long staring at Todd’s naked torso before Todd throws the closest thing to hand at him, which turns out to be a shoe. Dirk yelps and drops the cereal he was stealing out of Todd’s cupboard, and protests all the way out of the apartment before Todd finally shuts the door on him.He buys better locks the next day. He doesn’t see Dirk for 2 weeks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> come and talk to me on [tumblr](https://quingigillion.tumblr.com) ??  
>  this started out as a cute height difference prompt and became a bit sad and piney because im in a strange mood sorry lads i changed songs and this became a totally different piece sorry if this is stilted and weird  
>  i really hate buses lets see if you can tell

Todd hates the bus. He hates the people and the noise and the miserable drivers. The only trouble is he hates the price of gas more. A child in a pushchair screams at the front, and Todd watches it’s bored mother stuff crisps into it’s face. God, he hates the bus. His hands tighten around his bag, and he watches the sun flicker over the purple fabric of his uniform, filtering in through the grimy window. The engine rumbles and judders and groans to a halt. Todd watches a few people filter on, an old woman with a stick who he’s sure purposefully jabs it into his leg, a few school children who make their way raucously to the back, and a distant looking woman in a nurses outfit who’s clearly engrossed in her phone. They all shuffle into seats,  thighs sticking to the hot cracked plastic. 

A thin breeze rolls in through the cracked window, stirring the stifling heat inside. 

He’s sitting next to the last available seat. It’s a cold kind of dread that seeps over him slowly, starting at the base of his neck and moving out until it’s burning at his fingertips. The next person to step on this bus is going to sit next to him.  _ Fuck _ . He squeezes his eyes shut as the bus floor dips, and sends out a silent plea to  _ anyone _ that it’s some harmless person, as disinterested as he is about this entire ordeal. As long as it’s not someone crazy, someone drunk, someone trying to tell him their life story. 

Ideally no one will ever get on this bus again and he’ll just be left in peace to endure the torture of public transport. 

He opens his eyes and watches some tall, lanky guy in the most eye wateringly yellow jacket fumble some change out into the driver’s hand. He’s grinning crazily, and Todd feels his heart sink as the guy swings wildly around to face the rows of bored faces. The smile doesn’t falter. Todd watches him scan, stumbling to grab onto one of the chipped poles as the bus pulls awayy jerkily, and can see the exact moment when he spots the final empty seat next to Todd. His eyes light up as he scrambles towards him. 

He can already tell he’s a talker. Not many people would wear a jacket like that. It’s whether he’s crazy or not remains to be seen. 

‘ _ Hi _ ’ Todd swings his eyes upwards balefully and stares at the guy. His accent is weird, definitely not from round here, and the shallow afternoon sun catches golden in his hair. Maybe, in  _ any _ other situation, Todd  _ might  _ have found him good looking. Right now he’s only looking like a pain in the ass. It’s always him who gets the crazies. ‘Um … I’m just going to … squeeze past- try not to get st- there!’ 

Todd has now been squished too close to a stranger’s ass for comfort. The man struggles for a minute longer before the maroon trousers finally disappear from Todd’s view as the guy  flops down into the window seat. He sttares delighted out of the window for a moment as Seattle slides by, grainy, building after dilapidated building,passersby hurrying along. Light flares against the perspex, and Todd squints unattractively. A corgi runs past outside along the pavement, and Todd briefly considers whether it’s escaped it’s owners. Someone should call Animal Control. A long hand is shoved in front of him, and he blinks slowly at it for a moment, before turning to look at the man. He’s still grinning. 

‘Dirk. Dirk Gently. I’m a private detective.I’m on a case!’ Todd doesn’t know what private detectives are supposed to look like, but he knows it isn’t this. The man’s accent is foreign, soft and lilting and distinctly English, and more than a little bit snobby. Todd sighs and nods slowly. He’s too tired for this. He still takes the hand tentatively and lets it be shaken vigorously. He lets his grip slack and the hand slip away. The guy stares at him expectantly, and it takes Todd brain a minute to catch up before he realises. 

‘Oh … Um, Todd.’ 

‘ _ Todd _ .’ The man, Dirk, curls it round his mouth and over his charmingly quirky accent, before nodding firmly and smiling wider. ‘Good, well Todd, I’m on a case.’ 

He bites back a sigh and throws him an uneasy look. ‘Yeah, you said.’ There’s a pause while Dirk’s face scrunches up with confusion before it brightens again like clouds parting on a sunny day. Todd tries to retreat internally, cursing himself for forgetting his headphones. 

‘Right, well, then you already know.’ Dirk is gesturing wildly for a space less than 2 foot square, and Todd is on the receiving end of a few sharp elbows and has to dodge his flapping hands. ‘I’m looking for a corgi. Small, brown and white and well … corgi looking. You haven’t seen one have you?’ He’d really rather be anywhere but here. Anywhere. He’d probably even take another shift at work over this, and that is  _ really _ saying something. 

‘I mean … You just missed it.’ There’s no way that could be the corgi. There must be hundreds of corgi’s in the city, what’s one more that just happens to run along the 29 bus everyday between 2nd Avenue and South Jackson Street. But Dirk still gasps and stares at him will a pure, unadulterated excitement that sends terror coursing through Todd’s veins. If he gets  _ kidnapped _ it’ll just be the icing on top. 

‘I  _ knew _ it. I’m getting closer Todd!’ He wishes he didn’t sound like he was speaking to an old friend when Todd has never seen this guy before in his life. Their shoulders brush awkwardly, and Todd feels his jacket snag. He edges as far away from the crazy guy as possible, until his thigh is hanging off the edge of the seat. Someone bustles past him with a dirty look, slamming their bag into his arm as they bustle past and make their way off the bus. Todd turns back to the man occupying the space next to him, and tries not to despair at the grin still assaulting him. He peers out of the window and almost cries with relief. Only a few more stops, he’s almost home, almost away from this overcrowded bus with its overcrowding weirdos. 

Dirk stretches out his legs. Todd can tell he thinks he’s being subtle, expression tense with concentration as he inches them out from their cramped position, but it’s about as understated as a baby giraffe trying to stand up. He lets it happen, safe in the knowledge that very soon he’ll be able to escape and get off this bus and never see this man again. Dirk’s offensively maroon trousers slide under his legs, and he raises a brow as his knees are bent slightly.  _ Jesus _ , this guy is tall. Dirk shrugs apologetically and Todd carefully tries to make as much room as possible, even as the cheap plastic seat digs into his thigh. It’s like a bad twister, both of the contorting around each other to try and accommodate Dirk’s limbs. The end up half in each other’s lap and if it wasn’t late on a Wednesday Todd might bring himself to blush and be embarrassed. As it is he sighs  _ again _ and sits limply next to the other man as he recites some story about lemmings and a lost painting of the Archduke of Soay that Dirk had recovered through a tale of unlikely daring and unbelievable twists. Todd hums at appropriate times, and nods when Dirk’s eyes flick over to him, and imagines he’s sitting at home on his sofa, steaming pizza box next to him and something crappy on the TV. He’s so glad when he sees a familiar street corner slide past and lurches forward to hit the bell. He prepares himself mentally for the inevitable hurt on Dirk’s face, puppy dog eyes, maybe even fully fledged tears. 

Instead, as he swings himself out of the seat/Dirk’s lap, the smile turned on him has impossibly widened. 

It takes Dirk standing up with a delighted expression for Todd to understand why. Of course he’s getting off now. The doors hiss open, and Todd steps off into the cooling quiet of the evening in downtown Seattle. Dirk follows, not missing a beat in his story. Todd takes a few tentative steps towards the direction of the Ridgely and almost cries when Dirk mirrors him eagerly. 

He swings round to face the man, brandishing his bag at him and yelling. Dirk yells too, something akin to surprise on his face as he steps back. 

‘Whatever you’re doing … I … I have mace and I’m not afraid to use it!’ Which is a lie, but sometimes all it takes to ward off people like this.

Dirk looks at him aghast. ‘I’m just going  _ home _ .’ That makes Todd pause in his quivering. 

‘Where?’ 

‘The Ridgely. I live there now.’ Todd heart sinks at the same rate that Dirk’s delighted look spreads across his face. ‘ _ You live there too _ ! Don’t you see Todd? It’s the universe … This is  _ meant _ to be.’ 

He wants to cry. Dirk’s his neighbour. 

* * *

 

Dirk knocks on Todd’s door at odd hours to ask his opinion on manatees and monsoons. Dirk steals his pizza from the delivery guy. Dirk does everything he can to irritate Todd’s few precious hours away from work. He suffers through it until the day that Dirk breaks into his apartment through the window while he’s in the shower.

Dirk spends a while too long staring at Todd’s naked torso before Todd throws the closest thing to hand at him, which turns out to be a shoe. Dirk yelps and drops the cereal he was  _ stealing _ out of Todd’s cupboard, and protests all the way out of the apartment before Todd finally shuts the door on him.

He buys better locks the next day. He doesn’t see Dirk for 2 weeks. 

Of course that’s when fate decides it’s had enough and intervenes. The lights blink out on an innocuous Sunday afternoon and Todd is left in darkness. Outside the window the whole block is dark, with only the far off city lights illuminating the skyline. Fuck. He’s going to miss the end of Grey’s Anatomy. Worse is the fact Todd has no torches, matches, or candles. 

He could go to sleep. He  _ should _ go to sleep. 

Instead, he opens the door and makes his way out into the dim corridor. Dirk’s door looms solid and wooden and intimidating. He knocks and waits. 

It’s a long wait. Every fibre of Todd’s being tells him to leave, go back inside and wait for the lights to come back on. Power outs don’t last until morning. He steadies his resolve and raises his hand to knock again. The door chooses that moment to swing open and Todd takes a surprised step back. Dirk’s there. Dirk’s wearing soft flannel dinosaur pyjamas and squinting out into the gloom. He rubs at his eyes and his expression brightens considerable when he realises the mysterious intruder is Todd. 

Well now he feels like a dick. 

‘Uh, we’ve got no power, and I was wondering if you’ve got a torch I could borrow or something, but you should probably just go back to sleep. Sorry to wake you.’ Dirk yawns wide, but shakes his head and catches Todd’s sleeve to tug him gently inside. 

‘No, it’s fine! I have some scented candles in here, if I can find them.’ Dirk wanders away, looking unfairly adorable with his mussed hair, and Todd definitely doesn’t look at the pale lines of his back silhouetted by the faint moonlight as his shirt rides up. He strains to peer around at Dirk’s apartment, studiously attempting to guess at what the murky shapes hiding in obscure shadows might be. The lack of pictures, of personal touches scattered around is vaguely disturbing, the excess of empty pizza boxes less so. 

‘Why is your apartment so much nicer than mine? We’re … We’re on the same floor?’ He fails to keep his touch of jealousy out of his voice, even as Dirk yawns into the darkness again. 

‘Better exchange rates, I think.’ There are some loud clatters from over to his right and Todd waits very still in the doorway. The room he can see, before it fades into darkness, is very sparse. There’s a shape that might be a TV, and one that is definitely a sofa, and a blank doorway, but every surface is empty of the usual momentos Todd would expect from a man who wears yellow leather. Something in his chest aches at the thought. 

He can make out matches scratching over the surface and Dirk cursing quietly, before one of them hisses into the void and flares into a soft golden glow. Dirk shuffles the two candles over to Todd, long fingers cradling the glass jars carefully before he hands them to the other man. Todd is immediately choked by an overwhelming combination of cherry and almond and cinnamon and vanilla beans and cocoa. At least his apartment will smell nice. 

The yellow aura flickers over Dirk’s face, making him look very young and lost as he smiles sleepily. Todd thanks him quietly, and lets himself out, clutching at the candles fiercely as he makes his way back to his room. He sets them by his bed and watches them slowly burn down as the early morning begins to smoulder at the horizon.

When Todd returns the waxy remains of the candles, he brings pizza. Dirk looks at him gratefully and they watch the news over stringy margherita.

* * *

 

Todd buys Dirk a camera. It’s not his birthday, and it’s not Christmas and really if he’s honest with himself there is no acceptable reason to give it to him other than Todd keeps thinking about all the blank tabletops and windowsills and bookshelves looming in Dirk’s apartment. Dirk looks at him like he’s something  _ special _ and  _ wonderful _ and all Todd’s done is bought him a cheap digital camera. 

He takes it out of the box immediately, almost drops it, and takes his first shaky photo of Todd’s trademark glare. Dirk declares he’ll have it framed and Todd pretends the thought doesn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

Dirk takes pictures of Todd eating pizza and pancakes and pasta, he takes pictures of Todd on the bus and when he’s just opened his door at 6am on a Saturday morning, and Todd worries that he doesn’t have anyone else to take pictures of. 

Dirk, in return, buys him an electric kettle. It’s partly because Todd had laughed at Dirk’s horrified face when he’d seen Todd’s old stove kettle. Dirk spends enough time in Todd’s apartment that he probably should invest in proper tea making facilities anyway. He flicks the kettle on alongside the coffee machine just as Dirk swings open the door to his apartment and throws himself onto the sofa. 

‘I’ve solved it! It was simple really, in the end, because the monk  _ wasn’t _ a monk Todd,  _ it was a dentist _ !’ He stares expectantly up at him with wide eager eyes that are very blue and Todd can’t help but huff fondly and retrieve the milk from the fridge. 

* * *

He realises it’s gone a bit far when he’s pulling Dirk’s shirts out of his tumble dryer, clean and crisp. In his head it makes sense: Dirk spends as much time in his apartment as he does in his own. Dirk has spare clothes for when he crashes out on Todd’s sofa after pizza, for when he appears at 3am, shivering and wide eyed, for when he collapses on Todd’s bed after ‘case solving’. Todd still couldn’t tell you exactly  _ what  _ he does, but he knows that his door is closer to the stairs and he knows that Dirk has a key in his pocket that fits his locks.

Amanda asks if he’s dating anyone. She’s always been perceptive, but Todd knows how it looks. It’s not exactly subtle, he even  _ smells _ like Dirk most days. She grins and wiggles her eyebrows, but Todd, for once, can only laugh and shake his head. 

He’d never  _ date _ Dirk. Dirk is simply the crazy guy he met on the bus, who lives down the hall and wears Todd’s old Mexican Funeral t-shirts when he’s run out of clean clothes. 

Shit. 

Amanda throws him a look of disbelief and prods playfully at his shoulder. 

‘C’mon Todd, I  _ know _ when you’ve got someone. You get that huge soppy grin that makes you look like a teenage girl on Valentine’s day.  _ Who  _ is it, what are they like, are they cute, do I know them, how long has this been going on?’ He takes a minute to process her bombardment, hands pausing as he washes bowls and plates and cutlery. The suds lap tepid against his skin. 

‘Honestly, I’m not … there isn’t anyone.’ She stares at him from the sofa with blatant disbelief. Behind her the TV trundles on, dull and monotonous. ‘I mean … There’s not  _ no one _ . There’s ... a guy.’ She gasps and scrambles up to perch on the sofa back, eyes bright. He chuckles and shakes his head again. ‘It’s not like that, he just lives on my floor.’ And in his apartment most of the time. 

Dirk had come home with a bright blue corvette a week ago. It had stood out like a sore thumb along their dingy street, parked outside the dull red brick of the Ridgely. Todd had let him drive. Once. Never again. 

Amanda is still squeeing on the sofa, kicking her feet delightedly against the back. ‘ _ Dude _ , you’ve got a crush.’ Todd scoffs and waves her off, flicking soapy bubbles in her direction until she laughs so hard she falls backwards, onto the cushions with a faint  _ whumpf _ . Her voice still floats up into the quiet of the house. A car rumbles past outside. ‘I’ve got to meet him now, you know. He needs the Amanda seal of approval. And I’ve … I’ve got to threaten him right? Tell him if he hurts my brother I’ll … bury him out in the woods where they’ll never find him?’ He dries his hands on the dishcloth and wanders over to peer down at her with disapproval. He is far more likely to be the one to hurt Dirk in the end anyway.

‘No way am I ever letting you and Dirk into the same room.’ Todd can’t even imagine the chaos. Amanda would love him, and something tight and cold and  _ jealous _ sinks down into the pit of his stomach. 

* * *

Dirk tries to cook for Todd one night. After 3 destroyed pans and the smoke alarm beeping insistently, he gives up and lets Todd order in Chinese. They eat cross legged on either end of the sofa, knees touching, and Todd has to pretended viciously like he isn’t  _ happy  _ that this is just any other day, in any other place, with any other person. His noodles are cold, and Dirk spins him a ridiculous stories and Todd watches his toes curl with excitement.

Dirk picks him up outside the Perriman in the corvette, and Todd can’t help but smile at how ridiculous he is, leaning up against the side of the car, bright yellow against bright blue. He waves at him with a childishly bright grin, and Todd feels the weight of a day of ferrying luggage and dealing with rude patrons lift off him. He carefully ignores the look his manager gives him, hurrying out of the door to meet his ride. There’s a picnic basket on the backseat and Todd doesn’t even question it when Dirk drives him out of the city, chatting excitedly about his day with teleporting llamas. It’s too cold to leave the car by the time they reach the lakeside, and Dirk has to serve him jam sandwiches across the gear stick with the heaters on full.

Dirk slides into his bed on a wintry night and shakes behind him for a full 10 minutes, snuffling into the pillow before Todd turns and folds him into his arms, and holds him tightly until his shivering stops.

It has occurred to him that their relationship is different than it should be, that they are dating without dating. Dirk never kisses him, never holds his hand, never touches him, but he still makes tea in pyjamas in Todd’s flat on sunny mornings. 

He never asks, and he never will. It’s too fragile as it hangs between them, delicate like cobwebs, and Todd will simply take what he can get, like a drowning man breathing air in short desperate gasps. He carefully ignores the way Dirk looks at him, like he’s something bright, to be treasured. 

He never asks, and Dirk never tells. 

Todd’s a good neighbour. 


End file.
